


You're Going To Regret That

by KassWritesStarker



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Peter Parker, Consent Play, Crimes & Criminals, Detectie Tony Stark, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, Graffit Artist Peter Parker, Graffiti, Handcuffs, I mean like morally, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Tony isn't the best detective, Top Tony Stark, but Peter loves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassWritesStarker/pseuds/KassWritesStarker
Summary: He’s met him before - a few years ago. Tony warned him back then; warned him that he’d regret it if the detective ever caught him again… and he didn’t listen. Tony has promised it. “If I ever catch you doing something like that again… you are going to regret it.” He was about to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, the actual smut will be in chapter 2. This one is just build up. I'm sorry.

Tony stares at the pictures lying on his desk in front of him. One finger reaches out to lazily push them around and give him better access to the remaining ones. There are a remarkable number - all of them showing different places. House facades, walls, bridges. Nothing was left… unautographed.

He stays silent as Steve paces through the room, hands on his hips - typical Rogers pose. The officer lets out an angry growl and turns towards him. “This is outrageous! These things are appearing everywhere!” He angrily slams his hand down on the desk and causing the pictures on it to vibrate from the force he used.

Tony lets out a sigh and leans back in his chair. His arms are crossed above his chest as he watches Steve’s outburst. “Officer Rogers.”, he says calmly, causing the other man to fall quiet. “Why don’t you tell me more about this? It’s been a while since your last report.”

Steve hisses - kind of like a cornered snake. Tony’s mouth twitches upwards and into a small smile. “Alright, alright. There isn’t really anything new to add though. These spiders are still appearing everywhere.” He walks around the desk and comes to a halt right next to Tony so that he has better access to the evidence. “Take a look.”

Tony almost rolls his eyes. He has looked at them already - it had been hard _not_ to with the way Steve had flung them on his desk when he first came marching in. But he knows that the officer is stressed by the whole situation and gives him a pass. “I am.”, he confirms while Steve neatly lays the pictures out in front of him.

“These filthy smears are everywhere at this point.” Tony frowns at the taken photographs, slightly confused.  
  
“Everywhere?” He is sure that there had only been a couple of them a few weeks ago… well, he can’t say that he isn’t hard working. That many paintings in this short amount of time scream dedication.

“Yes, everywhere.”, Steve confirms sternly. “And whoever is doing it - they are getting bolder. The last image that appeared is not even 2 streets away from the station and I honestly-” Tony has been tuning in and out during his speech until a certain aspect comes back into his bored mind.

“They?”, he questions.  
  
“I-”, the officer starts to say before stopping. His eyebrows shoot up, a clear sign of his confusion. “Well, yes. It’s clearly a group, don’t you think? A single person wouldn’t be able to spray so much in that time.” Tony smirks.

“Wrong.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation - not even when Steve cocks his head to the side like a lost dog and stares at him in question. He just keeps on grinning and lowers his eyes back to the images. The spiders vary in size and colour but not in style. They all are the exact same layout.

He picks up a specific one to take a closer look at it. He knows that building - it’s a closed down factory, old and broken down with its roof half gone but it almost has a cult status around this district. His brown pair of eyes is scanning the area around the spider. 

It’s the only painting on the facade but he isn’t interested in that. No, he is searching for something else and then, right there at the end of one of the long legs, he sees it - the signature of an artist.

 **_P -_ ** the letter almost looks like it’s connected to one of the thin legs, like an extension - easy to miss when you aren’t looking for it. Tony marvels at how elegant it’s painted. It doesn’t seem like it’s been done with spray cans. Impressive. And really, really bold. 

“Detective?” He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Steve’s firm voice. “How am I wrong?” He sounds hurt or possibly offended… or maybe both. Probably both. “Are you saying that all of this is coming from just one person?”

Tony’s eyes linger on the elegant signature for one more heartbeat before they snap up to meet Steve’s blue ones. “I am.” He offers him the picture and points at the letter. “You see that? I bet you can find it in every picture here.” 

Steve watches him, clearly not convinced. “So? They could all use the same autograph. Perhaps it’s their group's symbol.”, he offers while starting to look through the other pictures with a pen in hand, ready to circle every signature he finds.

Tony arms are propped up on his desk, head resting in his hands as he watches the officer. “Hm, perhaps.”, he drawls out lazily. “But  I am sure that we’ll find out that every single one of these looks exactly the same if we take a closer look at the pictures.”

“Are you implying-”  
  
“No one can copy a graffiti artist’s style _that_ perfectly.” He tips his nose with his index finger a few times and gives the officer another shit-eating grin. “That’s all the same boy.” Steve’s eyes grow wide.  
  
“ _Boy?_ ”, he asks, completely baffled. Tony doesn’t say anything in reply - just leans back in his chair and continues to watch him as he puts two and two together. “Do you- do you know who is doing this, Tony?!”

His jaw clenches and he straightens himself in his chair. “That’s still detective Stark to you, Rogers.”, he warns him through pressed teeth. No matter how close they are as friends, Tony is his superior. Steve seems to forget that from time to time and needs to be reminded of it. He doesn’t mind.

“I’m sorry, detective.” He doesn’t sound sincere but as long as he keeps in line Tony couldn’t care less. “But… do you? You seem to be awfully sure about quite a lot of details concerning this case.” Well, he isn’t _wrong_.

“Maybe I do.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Or maybe, unlike _other_ people currently present, I am just damn good at my job.” Steve straightens his back at that, showing off his full height and it’s impressive - Tony won’t lie. He’s smaller than the blonde man but that won’t help him make his point. 

He isn’t intimidated easily. Years of investigating, hunting and dealing with psychopaths have seen to that. It takes quite a lot at this point to truly shake him... and the look on Rhodey’s face as he steps through the door certainly shows that he’s going to try though.

“Rhodes.”, Tony greets him, turning away from Steve who still looks like he is recovering from that last comment. “What’s with the long face, honey bear? Did someone steal your lunch again?”

Usually, his best friend is up for their banter but not today. He straight up marches through his room and flings a single picture onto his desk. “I think you better take a look at this.”, he mumbles in a deep voice. 

Tony bites the inside of his cheek before retreating the new image from the pile of old ones. He twists it over - just like his stomach does a little twist. Rhodey actually seems concerned. He can’t remember the last time-

He freezes. Actually freezes as soon as his eyes land on the picture. He knows that house too - way too expensive and luxurious. The owner is the biggest prick around and knows it. Yes, he knows it.  
  
It’s his fucking house and right there, _exactly_ in the middle of his facade is another fucking spider. It’s bigger than any of the others he’s seen. That is no accident - it’s a message. For him.  
  
_That little fucker._

 

* * *

 

_-3 years prior-_

 

_“Well, well. Who do we have here?”_

_The boy whips around, the half-empty spray can slipping out of his hand and crashing to the floor with a loud metallic ‘clang’. The hoodie is doing its best to cover his wild, brown curls but it’s of little use. Tony can see his face, his hair - everything._  
  
_And he never forgets a face._

 _He had been on his way to work and decided to take a short cut through the quieter part of town - almost no one walks through this ally. Especially at 5 a.m. in the morning. And yet, here he stands, not alone._  
  
_“I- I was just-”, the boy starts rambling while his hands do all forms of weird gesticulations. It’s kind of sweet how he tries to block his work with his lithe body - not that it’s even slightly working._  
_  
“Might I take a look?”, Tony asks and takes a step closer. The boy flinches when his feet connect with the spray can and send it rolling back in his direction. “Oh, I am terribly sorry about that.” Another step closer. “I was engrossed in your work.”_

_The boy sighs deeply and takes a step to the side, revealing an absurd construct of neon-bright letters and slang words. “Listen, I’ll give you what you want. Just don’t call the cops, okay? If they find out-”_

_Tony chuckles quietly and shakes his head. So sweet, so innocent. Adorable. He takes a moment to observe the line work. It’s messy and unclean but there is potential. He turns his head and meets a pool of hazel warmth._

_The boy’s eyes are big and shining but it’s not out of fear. There is determination behind them. He admires that. Too bad that he is what he is. “What’s your name, kid?”, Tony asks him softly._  
  
_He frowns at him. “I really don’t know why I should-”_  
_  
“How about I introduce myself first?”, he suggests with a grin. “You know, to break the ice.” He extends his hand, holds it out for the other to grab. “Detective Stark.” He knows how the next part works. He expects the gasp and the “Oh, fuck.” and Tony has him pinned against the wall before the boy can even turn around - before he can even think about running away._

_His face is pressed against the wall, directed into the still fresh paint which will, no doubt, leave traces on his porcelain skin. “Let’s try this again.”, he says while adjusting his grip on the boy’s wrists. “Your name. Now. No lies.”_

_“Fuck.”, the trapped figure grounds out. He’s breathless and his voice is rough, dulled by the wall his mouth is pressed against. Still, Tony has to take a step back because having his front pressed against his ass wasn’t doing him any good._  
  
_Or too much good._  
  
_“I am not going to repeat myself.”_  
_  
“Fine! Fine. I’m Peter. Peter Parker and- ow! Your grip is too tight. Let me go! I promise I won’t run away.” He isn’t really struggling against his restraint - only slightly pressing against it. Tony thinks about it for a moment._

 _“If you even try, you are going to eat the rest of that paint in your spray can. Got it?” His threat sounds hilarious to his own ears. He’d never do something like that. Yes, he has his problems with following certain rules but he has never taken it so far._  
  
_He never would._  
  
_But it seems to do the trick. The boy, Peter, stiffens for a moment before relaxing and uttering “Alright.” in a quiet voice. It’s enough for Tony and he lets him go, savouring the way Peter’s chest rises and falls as he takes deep breaths. “Fuck, man. That was kind of scary.”_  
_  
Scary isn’t the word Tony would use but the boy probably isn’t as twisted as he is._  

_"That’s ‘detective’ to you, kid.”, he reminds him. He won’t let his authority be undermined by this boy. Peter._

_“Sorry, sorry. Was that necessary though?” Peter rubs his wrist with exaggerated movements to make sure that Tony gets what he’s implying. “That grip was quite tight.”_

_He smirks, a humourless laugh leaving his mouth. “You have some nerve, you know that? I caught you red-handed while you were damaging property and then tried to run away from me - the embodiment of the law.” Well, now he is putting it on a bit thick perhaps if the way Peter’s mouth curls into a smile is anything to go by._

_“I’m sorry, detective.”_

_“You better be. You do know that I can take you with me to the police station right now? You’ve committed a crime here, Peter, and the evidence isn’t even dried yet.” He cocks his head to the side and watches with pleasure as the panic returns to the boy’s face._  
_  
“No, please, detective. If my aunt finds out-”_

_“You’re only thinking about this now?” Tony shakes his head in disappointment. “Somehow I expected more from an artist like you.” It’s just to pleasing to watch puppets dance for him._

_“I-” Whatever argument is on the top of his tongue washes away apparently and he instead falls back against the wall, hands pressing against his forehead. “Shit.” Well, that is truly pitying. Tony can’t be that ruthless now, can he?_  
_  
Yes, he has damaged property but this wall is old as shit and no one walks by here anyway… fuck, he is getting soft. Tony groans and closes his eyes for a heartbeat before they flutter open again. “Come here, Peter.”, he tells him, using his fingers to beckon him forward. The boy complies immediately._

 _He takes small and uncertain steps towards him until they are close enough for Tony to reach out. His hand goes for the hood and slowly pulls it down. His curls are even cuter uncovered._  
_  
He mentally shakes himself. “Let this be your first and final warning.”, he softly tells Peter. “If I ever catch you doing something like that again… you are going to regret it.” He pauses for a moment to let that last threat sink in. “Got it?”_

_“Yes.”, instantly comes the reply._

_Tony frowns at him. “Yes…?”_  
  
_“Yes, detective.”_  
_  
“Good boy. Now, pick up the trash you dropped earlier and run.”_

 

* * *

 

“Tony?! Man, you keep losing me.”

Tony barely hears Steve’s exhausted voice or Rhodey’s report on the damage caused on his house. He only knows one thing: He is going to regret that.

He stands up, his chair scratching against the floor and creating an awful sound. Tony doesn’t care. “I’m done for the day.” Both his friends stare at him, lost.  
  
“What?”, Steve asks carefully.  
  
“Why?”, Rhodey adds.

“I have to go to bed.”, is the only explanation he offers. “I have to rest. It’s going to be a long night.” He walks towards the entrance and quickly exits the room - the door closing shut behind him and leaving two very confused men in his office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shhh.”, a male voice softly hums out. “We don’t want to cause a scene at this time of night, do we?” Peter’s mouth falls open in shock. He hasn’t heard that voice in years. Well, in person, at least. He watches the news from time to time and the man loves giving speeches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this was supposed to be a 2 chapter fic. Nope, I didn't manage to get it together and stick to that. Well, more for you all to read. I hope you'll like it!

Peter squints at the painting in front of him, spray can in hand. It’s almost finished, almost perfect. Just one little detail to add. He raises his arm and paints his signature  _ P  _ at the end of one of the spider’s legs. 

Once he’s done, he takes a step back - a big smirk plastered across his face. He’s quiet as he admires his work. It looks good, yes. A job well done. Of course, it’s going to look even better in the morning when it’s not the flickering street light that illuminates it but the sun.

He shakes the spray can once. Twice. There is still a bit of paint left. The red, blue and black ones always end up completely empty - only the white can usually has some left. He shrugs and throws them all in the duffle back at his feet. Leaving evidence behind is never good. He’ll just get rid of them in the morning. Well, later in the morning. Not at 4 a.m. 

A movement to his right makes him whip around. What was that? He stares in the direction but the light doesn’t reach the part where he is sure he saw something. Peter waits a few seconds for something to happen. Nothing. He slowly lets out the breath he has been holding.

That isn’t the first time his mind has messed around with him. It’s just something that happens when you spend all your nights breaking the law - you are bound to get a little nervous from time to time. Although, in his defence, it is happening less and less to him. He’s oddly proud of it

Another moment passes and still, nothing is happening. Peter shakes his head at himself and bends down to close his duffle bag and pick it up from the sidewalk. It is time for him to leave. His work is done and he knows from observation that soon enough a few men will start coming this way to go to work. He doesn’t want them to stumble upon him while he is staring at his masterpiece.

It all happens in a flash. 

He has no time to react to the hand that comes into view for a split second before pressing down on his mouth and muffling his surprised scream. It’s warm, big, and rough but that isn’t really his biggest concern at the moment. Not when another arm snakes its way around his waist and pulls him back against a strong body. 

Peter freezes. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.  _ Fuck _ . 

He tries to say something but the hand over his mouth is pressing down so hard he can barely open his mouth. “Pwea-” Not a chance. He tries to leap forward and break the grip the other person has over him but whoever it is, apparently anticipates it and Peter barely manages to get any space between them.

And then he is being pulled back - trapped once again. His arms are still somewhat free and he puts all his strength behind the elbow he rams into the figure’s side. A painful grunt echoes through the dark night and Peter, despite his panic, feels a pang of satisfaction shoot through him.

If his attacker thinks he’s going to make this easy he is dearly mistaken. His small victory is short-lived, however. The arm around his waist weakens its grip for a moment and Peter attempts to leap forward once again - with little success. He curses into the hand because when the arm’s hold tightens again it has Peter’s arms trapped as well.

_ Fuck.  _

There is nothing he can do now, really. He just keeps on struggling against the other person, head thrashing left and right in a desperate attempt to free his mouth and scream out for help but it doesn’t work. 

Then, the figure starts moving, still tightly pressed against his back. His eyes start watering out of shame and fear alike. He doesn’t see where he is being dragged to with his vision that blurry but his head comes up with a nice variety of options. 

A van, perhaps and then he’s off to some dark and disgusting basement to be kept there as a pet. Or whoever it is will make it quick and just dump his body in a river. Shit, he’s going to die, isn’t he? 

And no one is going to fucking care. 

He blinks aggressively to clear his eyes of the salty water in them. When he does, Peter can see that he is being pulled into a dark and small side alley.  _ Oh god.  _ He tries one last time to free himself but then he is being pressed into a wall and he knows he lost. 

His eyes close and he stops struggling. There is no point in wasting his energy like that. Maybe that will make the person lower its guard and give him another chance. He just wonders how long he’ll have to suffer through…  _ this  _ to be able to act upon it.

The hand over his mouth pulls back and Peter’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Especially when it starts to gently caress his jaw. His eyes flutter open. What sick play is this? The arm around his middle adjusts itself as well and he feels the person lean forward, a warm mouth against his ear.

“Shhh.”, a male voice softly hums out. “We don’t want to cause a scene at this time of night, do we?” Peter’s mouth falls open in shock. He hasn’t heard that voice in years. Well, in person, at least. He watches the news from time to time and the man loves giving speeches.

“I... I- ”, he starts stuttering but his mouth snaps shut again when the hand on his jaw starts trailing down his neck, causing him to shiver slightly. The worst part is that Peter doesn’t know if it’s out of fear... or pleasure.

The warm fingers shouldn’t feel so good against his skin. He shakes his head again as if that would just make these thoughts go away. It doesn’t and he does his best not to make a sound as the fingers caress his neck.

“Hm?”, the detective asks. “What is it, Peter? What do you have to say for yourself?” The man takes a step forward so that Peter’s whole body is pressed (almost painfully) against the brick wall. He has to turn his head a little to keep his nose from being crushed. “I’m waiting, Peter.”

He doesn’t know what to say. He knows why he’s here - knows what he’s done. Honestly, Peter should have expected that he can’t get away with it. Still, his impulse control had been at 0 when he decided to do it. Damaging the detective’s house was really a shitty idea.

...right?

Well, he wouldn’t be in this situation right now if he hadn’t done it and that’s what he wants - to not be here...right? Fuck, what is wrong with him? “Let- let me go!”, he weakly demands but it doesn’t really sound threatening with the way his voice breaks slightly. “You can’t do this!”

All he gets in return is a chuckle. “Oh, Peter.” The detective’s voice, unlike his, is light and amused as he answers. “You really think I can’t?” Peter squirms around for a moment but the older man’s hand squeezes his throat once as a silent warning. “Don’t.”

Peter silently tells himself that he’ll never forgive himself if he moans now. “This is against the law!”, he protests - careful to keep his voice down. He doesn’t know what the detective will do if he screams out loud. Nothing good, he figures. 

“Oh, is it?”, the questions in an almost sing-song voice. “You seem to know a lot about the law. Interesting.” Peter’s eyes fall shut again. He knows what will come next. “I wonder why you are so fond of breaking it almost daily.”

He does too - he really does. It all started when he was around 16. Something about graffiti just completely captures his soul and mind. It makes him feel at ease - hearing that ‘ _ hiss _ ’ of the spray can and (even though it isn’t good for him) smelling the fresh paint. He doesn’t know why but it helps calm him. 

It’s also just really fucking funny to see everyone lose their shit over the fact that there are spiders appearing everywhere and no one having a clue who is doing it. Correction, almost no one.

“It’s rude not to answer a question, Peter.” He needs to stop saying his name like that - it’s causing all the wrong reactions in his body. 

“That wasn’t really a question. More like a statement.”, he argues and the detective lets out a deep laugh, his breath hitting Peter’s ear and making him flush. 

“You little shit.” He squeezes his throat again. “But fair enough. Let me try this again.” He softly presses Peter against the wall with his own body and he can’t stop the moan this time. He can feel the detective’s erection as it presses against his ass.  _ Oh fuck. _

“Why are you doing this, Peter?” 

He thinks - tries to think, at least - about it. “I.. I don’t know.”

“I think you just want attention. You know that I am in charge of the investigation regarding your graffiti, don’t you?” Peter stays silent as the detective continues to ramble into his ear. “I could have you locked away by now but I stayed quiet about it - and what do you do, you little fucker, to thank me?”

The arm around his waist is pulled back and Peter tries to turn his back to look at him, confused and wanting to see what he’s doing but the hand on his neck doesn’t allow it. The grip stays firm. 

Nothing happens for a moment until the older man takes a hold of his wrist and yanks it behind his back. “Don’t move your hand or there will be consequences.” He reaches for his other hand and does the same.

Peter tenses but obeys, keeping still. “What- what are you doing?”  The detective doesn’t stop and his hand is big enough to keep both his wrists pressed together. “Fuck! Stop it!” He can’t move his hands.

“I fucking warned you, remember?”, Stark groans out. “I told you that if I ever catch you doing something like this again, that you would regret it.” 

“What the fuck are you doing?!”, he asks again, voice growing louder and then he can feel the cold metal against his skin. He freezes and that makes it all the more easy for the detective to slightly pull his hands apart and snap the handcuffs shut around one of his wrists. 

Peter lets out a pleading squeak but the older man ignores him as he snaps the second cuff shut as well. “I gave you one warning but you just couldn’t listen. Your hands are a threat to this neighbourhood and I have to do something about it. ” 

He flexes his arms but the handcuffs don’t budge - not even a little. “This is so fucked up!” The hand that cuffed him slowly wanders up his back, pressing into the space between his shoulder blades. His cheek and upper body press against the wall harder as he bends forward. 

The detective lets out a sound of approval and Peter nearly does the same. The change in his position has caused his ass to press even harder against the older man’s crotch. He can feel him, hard and heavy. This is really fucked up - and he’s fucked up for liking it even a little.

“See? This is much better don’t you think? Now, you have to keep your filthy fingers to yourself.” He smiles against Peter’s ear. “Now, next question and you better have more of an answer ready than ‘I don’t know.’ Understood?”

He isn’t sure if the detective expects an answer but then he tightens his grip on his throat and Peter thinks that he might. “Fine.”, he agrees, trying to change the angle of his hips a bit - not because he is getting hard, no. The handcuffs are starting to become a little uncomfortable around his already sensitive wrists.

“Alright.” The older man’s hand settles down on his hip to stop him from moving around and Peter almost groans in annoyance. He doesn’t want his erection to press against the wall. Again, not that he is getting one. “Now, tell me. What the fuck were you thinking when you sprayed that damn spider on my house?”

“I-” He is about to add ‘don’t know’ until he realises that the detective would probably make him pay for it. “Don’t you like it?”, he asks instead - not able to stop the smirk that’s breaking out on his face. “I think it’s my best work so far.”

It’s the only one he made during daylight and he’s still impressed how quickly he got it done. The linework and colouring on it is nothing short of perfect. The detective has to see that as well - as long as he overlooks the fact that it’s on his house wall.

“You are a little brat, aren’t you?”, the detective scolds him, pulling his hips back to slowly grind against his ass a few times. Peter gasps silently. ”Always talking back. What does it take to shut you up?” He isn’t doing that bad of a job right now, Peter thinks to himself. 

“I guess it’s trial and error. How are your hands?”

Peter whimpers. “Sore and hurting.”, he answers. “The metal feels weird against my skin.” 

The older man hums in approval. “Sore and hurting. Sounds like a plan.”  _ Fucking hell _ . “That’s exactly what you fucking deserve for all the trouble you caused me.” He sounds so hot when he’s swearing - it’s not fair. Still, this is starting to freak him out.

“Alright, alright. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”, he starts to apologize - almost stumbling over his own words. “I deserve to get arrested. I won’t object to it. I promise.” He thinks it might work - until the detective laughs out loud and all his hopes about getting out of this disappear into thin air.

“Oh, I know you won’t object to it, Peter. I know.” His throat is released and Peter takes long and deep breaths as air rushes back into his lungs. The grip hadn’t been too tight to really cause him any breathing problems but it still is an unknown pressure. 

“Let me go. I said I was sorry.”

“And that’s all you think is going to make it okay? My house still has that fucking spider on it and no matter how hard I am going to make you scrub it - we both know it’s not going to get off.” Then, he sinks his teeth into Peter’s earlobe and he whimpers. “Unlike me.”

“F- fuck. Listen, Stark. Just.. just let me go-”

His hair is being grabbed and pulled back before he can utter out another word. “That’s ‘detective’ or ‘Sir’ to you, Pete.” His head his bend backwards and he can see some stars glistening in the night sky. It’s kind of pretty. “And no, I don’t think I will.”

“You’re going to get fired for that!”, he threatens him but it’s to no avail. The detective picks up his grinding again, shoving Peter’s own erection against the wall with every one of his thrusts. “ _ Fuck. _ ” He tries to get space between them but it’s nearly impossible with his hands cuffed together behind his back. 

“Who is ever going to find out about this?” His voice is rough and deep - Peter can barely concentrate. 

“I’ll - I’ll tell someone! Anyone!”

“No, you won’t.”

“I don’t want this!”

“Yes, you do.”

Peter's breathing picks up and he shakes his head, the tears returning to his eyes. “I don’t. Let me go, you fucking asshole.” He can feel the older man shift behind him and then he’s reaching around to cup him through his jeans and whatever blood that is left in the rest of his body shoots down.

“St-stop-”, he croaks out, desperate to stop his body (and mind) from betraying him like this. 

“Alright, you really don’t want this?” The older man’s fingers play with his fly for a moment before pulling it down and reaching inside.  _ Oh god, this isn’t happening.  _ His neck is starting to ache from still being pulled back. “Tell me no again.”

Peter opens his mouth to say it but then the detective caresses him through his briefs and all that manages to come out is a strangled moan. Nothing else. He tries again with the same result. 

“That wasn’t an answer, Pete. I don’t know what to make of that.” He keeps this torture up until Peter starts to thrust into his warm hand - not able to stop himself anymore. “See, now you’re just painting the wrong picture here, sweetheart.” That nickname just causes him to quicken his pace. 

“Tell me no, Pete and I’ll stop.”, he demands while slowly pulling his hand back. Peter lets out a disapproving growl but the older man gives his hair a hard tug to shut him up. “Don’t be such a little slut.”, he tells him and then his pants and briefs are being yanked down until his cock springs free. Peter yelps - the cool air hitting him and making him shudder.

There is a silence and Peter feels useless with his hands trapped like that. He can’t do anything - nothing but stand there with his back bent and erection free while the other man is having his way. God, what is happening?

This isn’t what he had in mind when painting that spider on the detective’s house. He mostly just wanted to piss him off - and perhaps get his attention. But that’s it. He is in way over his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.  
> Btw, I have created a discord server dedicated to this amazing ship! So, if any of you want to join to talk about these 2 idiots.. https://discord.gg/TeaNtMN ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Christ, you are so fucking hard for me already.”, Stark murmurs next to his ear as he starts stroking him. “How much do you want to get off right now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! Thank you for following this story - I hope you enjoyed it!   
> I always appreciate comments and feedback so I can improve myself in the future!

Peter keeps worrying, panic rising up inside him more and more until the hand returns to his aching cock to grip it. All breath leaves his lungs as he exhales loudly. The detective’s hand is wet, he must have spit in it and uses it to make his prick slick.    
  
“Christ, you are so fucking hard for me already.”, Stark murmurs next to his ear as he starts stroking him. “How much do you want to get off right now?” By this point, Peter is already a moaning mess and yes, part of him wants to thrust into his hand again and again until he can’t think anymore.    
  
The other part wants to shove the detective away from him and punch him in his smug face. What an asshole. If any of his police buddies would know about his. 

“Come on, you little slut. Talk to me.” Peter shakes his head as much as he can, willing his tears to go away. He can’t say it - he can’t say anything, really. “Nothing, hm? Fair enough. I have a better use for your little bratty mouth anyway.”

The older man releases his head and Peter lets it fall forward, all the muscles in his neck straining and aching painfully but he barely gets a moment to recover before his mouth is being pried open by the detective’s fingers.    
  
“Go on, put some real effort into it.” He does his best. It’s just a bit hard while he is being jerked off like this. His tongue slides over the skin for a moment before he closes his mouth around all of the digits and starts sucking them deeper in. “That’s it. Good boy. So obedient. Maybe not a completely hopeless case, after all.”

The praise goes right to his cock and can feel little drops of pre-cum starting to drop onto the dirty floor beneath them and he sucks harder, teeth scraping over the fingers curling inside his mouth now and then. The detective keeps them there, humming in delight and stroking him right to the verge of orgasm.    
  
Peter lets out a warning moan as his belly tightens and he thrusts his hips forward, accidentally choking on the older man’s fingers while doing so. Stark chuckles darkly - and lets go of his leaking cock mid-stroke.    
  
He whines, the orgasm sitting right in the pit of his stomach but still out of reach.    
  
“Shut up.”, he says coldly and removes the fingers from Peter’s mouth. He flexes his jaw a few times, opening and closing his mouth again to get feeling back into it. He can feel a single digit lightly trace along the underside of his cock but it’s not enough to bring his release and Stark pulls back after a heartbeat anyway.    
  
Peter whines again and in response gets his head shoved back into the wall. “I thought I ordered you to stay quiet. I told you before that I hate repeating myself. Do you remember that?” This time he doesn’t wait for an answer even if he expects one, Peter won’t deliver. If he opens his mouth now he’ll get the taste of this disgusting wall into his mouth.    
  
Disgusting. 

His hips keep pushing forward into nothing but air, hoping that the detective will have mercy and return his hand to his aching cock. He doesn’t. No, he actually removes both his hands and takes half a step back and Peter misses the press of his clothed erection against his ass instantly.    
  
No, no he doesn’t. He doesn’t miss it. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to miss it.

If he really puts all effort into it right now, he might be able to make a run for it. He could throw his head back and into the other man’s face. He would probably stumble back and give Peter more space to run to the left, back onto the main street and scream for help.    
  
It could work - if his legs wouldn’t be trapped by his own jeans. He will never get a good sprint going with them pulled down like this… and his hands cuffed behind his back. He curses silently.  _ Fuck.  _ He doesn’t let the little part of his brain that screams that he doesn’t even  _ want  _ to run speak up.

“Don’t even think about it, Peter.”, comes the warning and he is sure for a second that he can read minds. “I wouldn’t try if I were you.” It’s quiet except for Peter’s own muffled and laboured breathing - and then he hears the zipper of a fly being pulled down and a shiver runs down his spine.

He turns his head so he has enough room to breathe and talk at the same time. “You’re so sick.”, he utters out as soon as he can. There is little fight left in him but he’ll use it all to convince himself that this isn’t what he wants - that this is all just causing Stark pleasure.

He doesn’t expect the hum of agreement that he gets in return. “And what does that say about you then, hm? So hard and ready for me?” Peter wants to argue - wants to tell him that this is just a natural reaction he can’t control. It’s his body and just his body that is doing this to him.    
  
“This isn’t-”

“What you want?”, Stark finishes his statement for him. “Are you really that desperate, Pete? You might be able to lie to yourself but not to me.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he trails a hand down Peter’s back. He shivers violently. “Hmm, you see? Little slut.” 

“No-no.”, he croaks out as soon as he realises what’s happening but no matter what he says he knows it won’t stop him. He has something to prove here - to both Peter and himself. The hand continues downwards until it reaches the curve of his ass and only now that they are touching his skin can he feel how wet they are.    
  
He is painting Peter’s cheeks with his own saliva. Another shiver runs down his spine. His fingers rest right above his hole - tapping against his warm skin. “What do you want, Pete? You have to tell me.”

No, he won’t say a single fucking word. That’s the plan - at least until the detective grips his cuffed hands and pulls them to the side for better access. It causes him to twist his body painfully and he hisses out. “Fuck!”

“As you wish.”, Stark purrs and then he can feel one single digit sliding down between his cheeks to rest against his hole. Peter tenses - his mind going blank as he inhales and waits for the detective’s next move. “Relax.” A pause. “Or not. I’ll have my fun either way.”

_ Fucking asshole.  _

 He is about to say it out loud but then the finger starts pressing into him, a bit rougher than it should and he decides maybe it’s better to just concentrate on not moaning out loud. Not that that works even a bit.    
  
“Oh, you’re a tight little thing, aren’t you, Pete?” It almost sounds like praise with his voice that soft. “Too bad we don’t have that much time. You could use it.” The finger presses in deeper and Peter’s cock jerks, his eyes closing in shame as another moan forces its way out of his mouth. 

His hands jerk as well but the restraint is too tight and he can’t get any momentum behind it. Especially not with the way Stark is still holding them in a tight grip as he slowly penetrates him. 

“How’s that, hm? Good?” He’s enjoying it way too much. Peter can hear it in his voice. “You’re already clenching around one finger, Pete. How are you going to handle any more?” His mouth returns to his neck and bites down, hard and Peter gasps into the night. “That’s right. Let me hear how much you’re going to beg for it.”   
  
“Fuck you!”, he spits out just before a second finger gets added and makes him almost hunch over. Peter swears to himself that he wants to move forward and away from him - so it’s a mystery to him how he ends up pressing himself back instead and into the pressure the detective is mercilessly applying. “ _ God- _ ”

A tongue swipes over his sweaty skin right up to his ear. “I am flattered but ‘Sir’ or ‘detective’ is enough for now.” As soon as the two fingers are settled in he starts to roughly pump them in and out - using so much force that Peter actually ends up rocking forward with every thrust. 

He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want it.  _ He doesn’t want it. _ He needs to say that now. He really does. 

He doesn’t say it and by the time the third finger gets added he is reduced to a moaning and quivering mess with his cock jerking and leaking but the pace is too quick and aggressive and the orgasm still too far away. It seems to go on forever until Peter is almost sure that he can’t take anymore. Just then Stark stops his pumping.

“What a good slut you are. Just standing there and taking it. I think you are ready, don’t you?”, he muses while slowly pulling out his fingers. Peter swallows hard and stays silent as the older man lets go of his hands - no doubt in need of both his hands to free himself.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Pete.”, he says as he settles both his hands on Peter’s hips.   
  
“I-” His voice dies after a heartbeat.

“Go on. Tell me that you don’t.”, he says as he takes a step closer and  _ fuck _ , he can feel him hard and heavy against him again but this time there is no layer separating them. His eyes flutter close - his throat dry and devoid of any sound. He can’t.

“Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you into oblivion.”, he groans out and then he is thrusting into him in one quick move. Peter cries out and there is a hand on the back of his neck in an instant - pressing his head into the wall. “Shut your fucking mouth or someone will hear.”    
  
Peter’s mouth is wide opened as the detective starts to pound into him without any mercy - his face rubs painfully against the bricks. He is sure there will be scratches by the time this is over. 

“You’re going to take this, won’t you?”, he rambles against his ear and reaches around them to once again take hold of Peter’s bobbing cock. “You’re going to stand here with your hands bound and take my cock like the good little slut you are.”

He can’t stop himself anymore - he lost. He lets out a long moan and does his best to rock back against Stark as he thrusts into him. He wants to reach behind him and touch the older man - wants to feel him the way he feels Peter.    
  
But these fucking handcuffs aren’t allowing him to do anything.

The detective pulls back, his hard cock leaving him almost completely before slamming back in and Peter tastes the wall as he gets shoved into it all the while getting his own erection stroked in time with the thrusts. It feels so fucking good.

“ _ Yes. _ ” Stark’s voice is straining now, the grip on his neck tightening and this time he really starts to have trouble breathing. The other palm is moving from his raging hard-on to his hip again to dig into it. If Peter doesn’t know any better he would say it’s almost possessively. “Look at that. Actually able to listen for once. Actually able to fucking obey for once.”   
  
Peter lets out a hoarse groan and the fingers around his throat relax a little. It’s enough to allow him to speak again. “Please.”, he breathes out against the wall - not even caring that he is getting dirt in his mouth. “Fuck,  _ please _ .”

“Please what?” The replies is hissed out between clenched teeth as the older man keeps his hard and fast rhythm. “You know, this is supposed to be a punishment, Pete. You shouldn’t enjoy this after what you did to my house.”    
  
Peter freezes. He isn’t going to stop, is he? Because he might pass out if he isn’t even allowed to come after all this fucking time - but then the detective groans loudly and he feels the cock inside him twitch a bit and he knows that he’s too far gone as well to pull back now.

“Your house - and the whole neighbourhood.”, he corrects him when he has enough breath in his lungs again. He doesn’t like when people don’t acknowledge his  _ whole  _ work. He puts way too much effort and time in this all for it to be ignored. 

The detective snarls loudly and pulls him back - impaling him further on his raging organ… if that is even possible at this point. “Who fucking cares about these old walls and houses?” Peter shakes his head and gasps loudly.    
  
“You -  _ fuck, right there -  _ you should.”, he breathes out as a reminder. “Pol-” He hiccups when the older man reaches for his hair and winds his finger into his dark curls. “Police and all-” He pulls on it - hard and his head snaps back once again. “Shit!”

“You naive little thing. How precious.”, the detective murmurs as he holds his head back and gives his erection a tug. “Fucking adorable.” Peter shudders - the praise going straight to his head… and cock. He wants to grip Stark’s head and pull him forward into a kiss but as much as he flexes his arms, the muscles there don’t work.

Well, that and he is sure that the detective isn’t even down for any sort of kissing anyway. Peter isn’t stupid or naive no matter what the other man says. He knows he’s being used for Stark’s pleasure and it should bother him.    
  
It doesn’t - not as long as he can spurt his own cum against the wall at some point.

He can feel the thrusts begin to falter in their rhythm, can feel the hand in his hair tighten and drag him back. “That’s it, yes. Fucking hell, baby. Shit!” He pulls Peter against his solid and still mostly clothed frame and holds him there as he empties his load into his sore ass, cock spasming and twitching inside him. “Take it, you little bitch.  _ Fucking take it. _ ” And Peter obliges, holds still even though he wants to thrust into the hand on his cock more than anything.    
  
Moments pass and he is starting to think that the detective is just going to leave him like this now that he’s done - all worked up and filthy with his hand, ass and cock aching. His legs are struggling to hold himself up at this point and it doesn’t help that Stark is practically sacked against him and putting quite a lot of his weight onto Peter’s shaking body.

But then the older man straightens himself somehow and the still hand on his cock resumes it’s movement. Peter yelps. “You feel my cum inside your tight ass, Pete?” The question is being uttered into his ear and he quickly nods as an answer. “I bet your little hole looks absolutely ravished now. Just what you deserve.”

Peter’s hips are snapping forward in time with Stark’s pumps and he hisses at the sweet, sweet friction. “Go on.”, he murmurs, voice rough and dark. “Let’s make another painting - together, this time. Your cum will look so good against this disgusting wall.” 

He would agree if he was able to speak. “Come on, Pete.” Then his mouth is right next to his ear. “Come for me.” And it’s all too much to take any more - the hand on his dick, the detective’s now soft cock still in his ass and the cum that is dripping down his leg.

He cries out into the night - not even caring that the hand on his hair lets go to clap over his mouth and muffle his scream. He jerks forward one more time and then he can feel his cock spurting and Stark makes sure to hold him steady while he’s painting the wall in front of him with his load.

His orgasm seems to be going on forever and when it finally ends he can’t hold himself up anymore. Peter is about to collapse on the floor but both arms sneak their way around his waist and chest and keep him upright as he pants and gasps loudly. “Holy fuck.”, he hisses out between his heavy breathing.

A quiet chuckle echoes behind him. “Indeed.”, Stark agrees. He takes a step back - careful to keep him upright and pulls out. Peter winces in pain. Yes, he’s definitely going to feel that for at least a few days. “Looks like I was right. A complete and utter mess.” What an ass.

One arm leaves him and Peter can feel rustling behind him. He figures that he’s probably making himself decent again and wishing he could do the same. “Make sure not to collapse.”, the detective warns and then the second arm is gone as well.    
  
Peter stands in the dark, staring at the wall right in front of him. He almost flinches when he feels fingers around his hurting wrists. They fuss around there for a moment before he can hear an audible ‘click’ and feels the metal slip from his hands.    
  
He lets out a loud moan of relief as he can finally twist his arms out of their painful position and they whip down to pull his briefs and pants up in an instant to cover his soft and still slightly leaking cock. His eyes dart down as he does so and land on suspicious bright spots on the wall which create quite the contrast to the dark bricks. He blushes a deep red.

The man behind him is quiet as Peter rights himself and when he turns around he looks so unaffected, so unmoved that for the shortest of heartbeats he wonders if he just had the weirdest (and best) fucking fever dream ever. Until he notices how the detective's chest is rising just a bit faster than it normally does.    
  
He flexes his wrists and fingers to bring some life back to them and grins slightly, still somehow affected by the adrenaline. “Well, this was-”   
  
“If you ever dare to touch my fucking house again I’ll shoot you in the head, Pete.” His voice is soft - so much softer than during their whole encounter and Peter’s blood runs cold. “Don’t you test me again.” He gives a single, sharp nod, his throat dry. “Got it?”

“Yes.”, he croaks out.    
  
“Good.” It’s still dark and the first hints of dawn aren’t enough to make him see the expression on the detective’s face. What he can see is the hand that he lifts and runs through his hair to straighten it. “Good boy. Now, make sure that you pick up your spray cans. I don’t want any evidence I can check for fingerprints.” 

With that, he turns around and leaves Peter with flushed cheeks and a hurting ass. He sacks back against the wall as soon as the detective is out of reach to catch his breath and think.  _ What the fuck just happened?  _ He had sprayed his house to get a rise out of him, yes but christ, this hadn’t been what he expected would happen. 

He gives himself another moment before pushing his body off the wall and slowly making his way out of the alley and towards his disregarded duffle bag. It’s still where he left it earlier - well, forced to leave it. He checks it real quick to make sure that everything is still there and then picks it up.    
  
With it slung over his shoulder and the first rays of sunshine hitting his bruised face (he was right, the brick walls scraped away skin) he starts to head home - not sure how to explain any of the night’s events. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna join the Starker discord server to talk about our sexy idiots: https://discord.gg/wr7QxnV

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate any form of feedback!


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